cold
by ChibiCHICKENluver
Summary: Even as he's grown accustom to the cold, Sasuke still wished for something to keep him warm. /SasuSaku/


**Title**: cold  
**Inspiration:** you and I in unison  
**Notes**: I don't really know where I'm going with this.  
**Disclaimer:** don't own, man.

.

.

"_Some days I swear I can hear you sing to me or whisper my name in the slightest way. It's like the warmest light now laid across my bedroom floor is somehow actually you and not just sunlight."_

.

.

Cold.

It didn't bother him much; the stone floors and stone walls. He'd press his bare feet against the floor when he arose, ready to spend another day training…becoming stronger. He'd lean against the wall for support when the dull, ever-present throbbing in his shoulder suddenly turned into white hot bursts of pain; shooting up and down his spine and running through his veins like fire.

While he'd been welcoming the cold all his life, Sound was entirely different.

Everything about that place was cold and unwelcoming; ready to eat you alive and break you down until there was nothing left of you but a sad, world-worn shell of who you used to be.

That's who he was nowadays, anyway.

But maybe he was always like that.

Orochimaru touches his shoulder and he snaps out of whatever dazed half-dream he was apparently stuck in during the long, unnecessary meeting with people who were too afraid to look the young Uchiha in the eyes.

Orochimaru doesn't frown at his behavior, but he's not exactly smiling either.

"Sasuke-kun, Yasuo-san was speaking to you."

Sasuke jerks his body away from the Snake Sannin, a scowl forming on his handsome face. The onyx eyed boy looks up at the man a few seats away from him, who's looking at him as though he's ill. Sasuke doesn't particularly blame him. One had to be unstable to blatantly disrespect Orochimaru.

He inclines his head, mumbling a short 'sorry,' under his breath.

Yasuo clears his throat and looks at Sasuke, but not his face; somewhere over his shoulder because like everyone else in Oto, this man is a spineless slave for Orochimaru. Yasuo is a tall man, with pale green hair and wide, perpetually nervous fascia eyes. He's dressed in traditional, civilian garb and it would be impossible to tell that he was a shinobi if it weren't for the obviously placed hitai-ate resting against his forehead.

Sasuke was never one to feel threatened by anyone; especially not any of Orochimaru's pathetic errand boys, but Yasuo always made Sasuke irritated. While it certainly wasn't a matter of intimidation, the green-haired man always had Sasuke on edge. Perhaps it had something (or everything) to do with the symbol on his hitai-ate.

He was a leaf shinobi.

"A-as I was saying," Yasuo continues, eyes still transfixed on that spot above Sasuke's shoulder. "I understand it's been three years since your defection. T-therefore…you're probably unaware of Konohagakure's involvement with taking down the Akatsuki."

Sasuke automatically tenses. No, he was not aware of that.

The green-haired looks hesitant, but his lips form a flat line before he looks Sasuke in the eyes. (A foolish mistake, if you ask Sasuke)"Your former teammate, Haruno Sakura, was killed in action on Thursday of last week by Uchiha Itachi and his partner, Hoshigaki Kisame."

Sasuke can't (_refuses_) to believe what he's hearing and his pale hands grasp the arms of the chair he's seated in tightly, the wood starts to splinter and fall to the floor at his sides. Images flash before his eyes of pink hair (_pretty_) stained red and emerald eyes (beautiful) wide and white and dead, and pale skin (so perfect) bruised and cut, bleeding out from every surface.

She's beside him then, while Orochimaru and Yasuo are talking about something that Sasuke can't quite hear because their voices are muffled and all he can think about is how beautiful she's become and how she's supposed to be dead. She rests the small of her back against the wood of the table and looks down at him. She's too pretty and naïve for Oto, Sasuke decides, onyx eyes glued to where she's leaning against the table in front of him.

"Sasuke-kun," Her voice is small and shaking, not melodious and smooth, like it used to be. She's no longer short and thin like she was when they were Genin. She's taller and toned, but still feminine and still so, so naïve.

She pushes off the table to slide into his lap, and Sasuke can't react other than the choked sob that escapes from his throat (_weak_) and clenching his hands tighter on the chair. Her legs are on either side of his hips, her arms resting on his shoulders but he can't feel it because she's there with him and her green eyes are all he can pay attention to.

She studies him for what seems like forever and a sad smile breaks out on her face. "What have they done to you, Sasuke-kun?"

_Nothing_, he wants to say. _I'm still the same, I love you. _But he can't say anything because she's dipping her head down and pressing soft, delicate lips to the skin of his neck. He can feel her breath fan across his throat when she presses a kiss to his ear.

"I love you so much," she whispers. Something wet drips onto his neck and he realizes she must be crying. That stupid spy said that she was dead but she feels so real. Too real. "You're everything to me, Sasuke-kun."

By the time Sasuke's mind catches up with his actions, his arms are already wrapped around her waist and pulling her closer to him. He glances at Orochimaru, or where he should have been, but Sasuke finds himself in an achingly familiar place, days away from sound.

He rises and lays her down on the cold (so cold) stone bench that he left her on years ago. He settles on top of her, leaning his weight onto his elbows because for all she's grown, she's still so small and so pure compared to him. "Please stay with me," he mumbles softly into her hair. "Don't let me go back there."

Their lips meet for the first time and it's Sasuke's first kiss and he realizes there's no one else that he ever pictured doing this with. He finds the need to tell her and she laughs softly against his cheek and tells him she's been faithful to her heart and to him.

"It's always been you." She whispers. Her lithe hands grip his white, kimono-styled shirt and she pulls him down to her again. Her soft tongue darts out against his bottom lip and Sasuke thinks he moans; but maybe it's her.

Their tongues collide and Sasuke suddenly feels like he's burning. Everywhere is burning. He wonders mutely if Sakura's feeling the same way. He presses his tongue to hers harder; lowers his body onto hers more fully. He needs to be near her, he needs to feel every inch of her delicate, pale skin…he needs…

He doesn't know what he needs; but he knows it's everything to do with her.

He grinds his hips slow against hers as she tears away from his mouth, breathy moans fanning his face. "Take me, Sasuke." She pleads. "Come back to me, come home."

Sasuke shoots up in his bed, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. He realizes that what he thought were her tears dripping onto his neck are actually his own tears that slid down from his sharp cheekbones. He feels disgusting and weak and oh so sad at the same time.

For the first time since he's been in Oto, Sasuke can't stand the cold. His room is too empty and he fists the covers twisted around his body and wishes he had someone in his bed to tell him it would be okay and that this was only temporary and that the cold would leave when he avenged his clan.

He wishes that they would have pink hair and green eyes and he wishes he could tell her that he never wanted her to die and that he loved her.

But he just lies back down and curls into a ball and wipes the traitorous tears away. He closes his eyes and tells himself that he needs to get back to sleep. He's going to be training in the morning, and that means getting stronger. Getting stronger means killing his brother, and killing his brother means going back home.

Going back home means going back to her.

.

.

"_But the truth is you were never there. You won't ever be. Sometimes I think I'm not either so what do I do when every day still seems to start and end with you? And you won't ever know, you won't ever see, how much your ghost since then has been defining me."_

.

.

**A/N:** I don't know.


End file.
